Leave Michelle Alone

Here’s what I noticed about the loudest anti-Michelle whiners. They’re pretty hefty themselves. Maybe they feel less, well, conspicuous here in the fattest nation on earth in the history of earth.

I’m a size four. So, is it ok for ME to tell her to STFU?

Get off the restaurants’ backs, Michelle. And if you’re so worried about waddling Americans rolling their little ones to school, how come you served bratwurst, kielbasa, cheeseburgers, deep-dish pizza, buffalo wings and twice-baked potatoes at your Super Bowl party?

Maybe because our stick-figure president is the one man in America who could desperately use a KFC Double Down. My God, Michelle, you could pick up that skinny husband of yours with one of your muscled arms tied behind your back.

She can tell US what to eat, but doesn’t have to follow that advice herself, because her husband is supposedly “fit”? Healthy eating is healthy eating, whether one is fat or thin.

I call her a Florence Nightingale needed to nag us back to our senses before we eat one too many cheeseburgers, and explode.

Ba haa haaa … Look, if Michelle nagging you results in you putting down that cheeseburger, more power to you.